The Part of Me No One Else Can Find
by Grdnofevrythng
Summary: AU: Rachel is a Jew in Holland during 1943-1945. Quinn's hiding her, but Quinn's father is a Nazi-supporter.


****Prompt(s): 4. AU Historical. Civil War or WWII would be especially awesome, but I'm up for anything, seriously. Rachel/Quinn, but bonus points for other cast members.

A/N: When I stumbled upon this prompt, I knew I just had to do it. So, after a few painstaking weeks, this is my take on Faberry during WWII. I hope you will enjoy it.

**July, 1943**

Quinn walked gingerly down to the market. Her steps were unhurried as she took in the sweet air and the gentle breeze. Children on holiday ran past her, their blonde hair like spun gold in sun, reminded her of the days when she and her sister would take this walk with their mother. Her basket swung in her hand as she went over the mental checklist of things to buy. She would make stamppot for lunch and then maybe kroket and frikandel. And then if she were truly feeling adventurous after that, she'd try her hand at making vlaai. Her friend from Limburg had sent her the recipe after her visit last spring and so far she had not perfected it. This was one perk she found to choosing to go into teaching. During the summers there was always plenty of time for her to try out new recipes and now that Anna had gotten married and moved to Germany, there was no one to complain about the strange smells.

She smiled at the woman that always sold the most beautiful tulips in the whole market and decided to purchase a few for her tiny house. It could use some cheering up. She moved on to the breads, picking up a few for the week and deciding to treat herself to fresh rolls for lunch. Next she moved over to the fruits and preserves. She needed some for her vlaai and examined each piece thoughtfully, wondering if perhaps this time using peaches would work better than strawberry preserves. Something brushed against her skirt, startling her and causing her to cry out, nearly dropping her basket. She blushed brightly, smiling shyly at the onlookers before steadying her basket. The long table cloth rustled again and Quinn decided to investigate. She and Anna had always had great fun hiding from their mother as she bought food. There was probably a small child under there, playing a trick on his mother.

Pulling the curtain aside, Quinn smiled brightly, ready to scold a child as she would one of her students, but was completely surprised to find a young woman instead. A woman wearing a patch on her jacket in the shape of a six-pointed star. She stumbled back a little, surprised to find not only an adult there, but a Jew. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen one at the market or even simply walking the streets. Most of them had long since been rounded up and deported to Westerbork. Big dark eyes stared back up at her, frightened and pleading. She wondered how long the woman had been hiding there, but she couldn't exactly ask. Quinn frowned at the woman. She should really report her. If she was found out by the SS, her punishment would be severe, but if she was reported, maybe she'd just end up in a work camp. Plus Quinn would get a few guildings and she could really use the money.

But even as she lifted her head to call the attention of a soldier who happened to be walking by, she couldn't bring herself to do it. She wasn't all that fond of Jews anyway, but even she felt a little bad about bartering someone's life for a few coins. She dropped the cloth again, fiddling with it to make sure that the woman was covered again. She smiled sweetly at the officer when he stopped at the table. He eyed her questioningly, his blue eyes searching hers with suspicion, but her smile never faltered and he walked away.

"I will be back tonight," she whispered before she moved on to the meats.

Later that night, she made her way back down to the market long after the merchants had left for the day, surprising herself. The fact that the girl had remained, surprised them both.

The room had been unoccupied since Quinn took Anna's room three months ago. "You will sleep in this room," she commanded quietly. "It is my sister's when she comes to visit."

The dark-haired girl looked around the room, her brow slightly furrowed as she took it all in. The room wasn't very big and it had a single bed in it and a dresser with a cracked mirror from one time she and Anna had had a disagreement and Anna had thrown her brush at the blonde. Quinn felt annoyed. Who was this girl...this Jew to judge her? She was lucky Quinn hadn't turned her in. Glaring, Quinn walked toward the door.

"What if she comes to visit?" The girls voice was small and slightly fearful. Something in Quinn's chest swelled with pride. She wanted this girl to fear her.

"We'll worry about that when it happens," she answered curtly before walking out of the room.

**August, 1943**

Quinn regretted her impulsive decision to hide a Jew on more than one occasion. She still wasn't sure why she was even doing it. The penalty for this was death and the SS wouldn't have to do the job, her father would personally shoot her himself. Even knowing it, she couldn't bring herself to turn her.

_Rachel._

She hated her name and only thought of her as "the Jew."

Quinn hated everything about Rachel. From her tan skin and big nose to her dark hair and her singing. Rachel sang constantly. It didn't matter what she did or how arduous the task, she was always singing. And what made it worse was that they were these hauntingly beautiful songs that would get stuck in Quinn's head and drove her to distraction.

"I told you to stop that!" Quinn growled, startling the girl.

"The singing or the cleaning?" The Jew asked, shrinking away from the blonde in a way that made Quinn want to strike her face.

"Both."

Because if the Jew cleaned the house, it was like she was earning her keep and then they became equals. And Quinn wanted one thing to be clear. They weren't equal in anyway.

Quinn went into town once a week to meet her friend Brittany. They talked about Brittany's life. Going to social events with her mother. Dating the wealthiest and most eligible men in Amsterdam and how three of them had proposed to her, but she couldn't pick any one of them. Apparently, none of them had met all five qualities her mother had deemed appropriate for a suitable husband. And she had to stick to the list, right?

They talked about Quinn's life too. Mostly the superficial things because Brittany didn't believe in reading anything she didn't absolutely have to and could only seem to focus on one subject for about two seconds.

Brittany asked if Quinn was ready to get back to work and meet her students because Brittany loved kids and hoped that her perfect husband would come along soon so that she could have a bunch.

Nodding, Quinn said yes with a smile. It was the truth. She was anxious to get back to work if only because it meant she'd be out of the house for long hours during the day.

She didn't, however, tell Brittany about the woman that was hiding in her house or how sometimes she wondered what kind of books the Jew liked to read. Partly, because Brittany wouldn't understand. Mostly, because Quinn liked to pretend she didn't exist.

**September, 1943**

Waving and smiling brightly Quinn bid her students a farewell as she climbed onto her bike and weaved through the people. She loved riding her bike and was always a little sad when it got too cold to ride anymore and she had to put away for the winter. She rode along, enjoying the view of the Amstel as she smiled and waved at the people she passed. She'd heard it was to rain, but she was lucky that the children hadn't lingered after school and today wasn't her long day. Not that she was in a rush to get home. Because she wasn't. At all.

She opened the door, ignoring the wonderful smell of hutspot and appel beignets that made her stomach whine with hunger. The light breeze wafting through the open windows welcomed her happily as did the Jew's smile when Quinn reached the kitchen.

"Welcome home," the brunette chirped in the cheery voice Quinn hated the most.

"Did you stay away from the windows today?" The blonde took her seat at the table, knowing that the other woman had made sure that dinner was ready as soon as she walked in. This was one thing Quinn had yet to discourage.

Nodding, the Jew served her a plate and stood by, awaiting Quinn's reaction.

"Sit and eat," Quinn barked impatiently. She didn't know whether to be annoyed that the woman hadn't just done so automatically or triumphant that this Jew knew they weren't anything more than superior and subordinant.

She grabbed her plate and sat across from blonde immediately, staring down at her plate.

"Was today nice outside? It looked nice," she asked after a few moments of tense silence. Quinn never initiated any conversation as they ate and barely participated in the ones they did have. This did not deter the Jew, who seemed content to just talk enough for the both of them.

"How would you know? I thought you said you'd stayed away from the windows." Quinn replied, ignoring her question.

"I did, but when I was cleaning I-"

"I told you to stop cleaning, stupid girl!" Quinn slammed her hand down on the table so hard her whole arm stung.

The Jew flinched. "I know, but I like to do it. Noah always said I was really good at it..."

"Who is Noah?" Quinn asked before she could think better of it, spitting the name out like it left a sour taste in her mouth.

"Noah is my husband."

**October, 1943**

"Papa, would you like more stout?" Quinn asked almost meekly.

Her father looked over at her, his blue eyes still twinkling with mirth from his last joke. "No, no, I'm fine."

Quinn nodded turning to the SS soldier sitting across from her in the Jew's seat. His name was Kurt Hummel and he looked about her age. He was fairly handsome with brown hair and blue eyes. His skin was smooth and pale and his smile was easy. And she wasn't attracted to him in the least. Kurt lacked the manly aura that generally attracted her to the male population, especially when he spoke. He reminded her of the boys back in secondary school before they'd hit puberty. Plus, there was something in the way he kept glancing at her nervously that made her think that her suspicions about him were correct.

That he was one of those boys.

The ones she heard about from old boyfriends. The kind that were beaten up in the boys' lavatory long before the war. The boys that had been sent away to camps.

She smiled at him cruelly. She wondered what he'd think if he knew he was sitting the same chair that the Jew always used. She hoped he would be as disgusted as she was by this whole dinner. How could her father find him a proper suitor for her?

But she just smiled sweetly until it was over and she escorted her father to the door, kissing his cheek and made a big show of smiling brightly at Kurt on both cheeks before whispering into his ear, "I know your secret." He stepped away quickly, his eyes wide and nodded curtly before stepping outside. Her father's look was curious, but she just shrugged before ushering him out the door and shutting and locking it behind him.

She watched as he drove away before she walked over and unlocked the attic door.

"How did it go? I made sure to stay very quiet up there." The Jew seemed eager and Quinn couldn't understand why.

"Clean up the mess. I'm going to bed."

"Noah lived next door to me," the Jew said over dinner the next night though Quinn hadn't asked.

She'd heard a lot about _Noah_ lately and though she wanted to tell the woman to keep her mouth shut and eat, there was something in the way her voice took on the sudden wistful tone and it sucked the blonde in.

"We met in school. All of the girls really liked him, but he only smiled at me. He carried my books home everyday. He was so handsome, Noah Puckerman. We married at eighteen against my father's wishes. I wore my mother's gown..."

Quinn hazarded a glance at the Jew's face. She was wearing a sad smile.

"Where is he?"

"They came for them one day at work. Noah, he managed to escape, but then he saw his younger sister being rounded up with the other children. He traded himself for her. That was a year ago."

**November, 1943**

Despite this being her house and knowing under law, she was well within her right, Quinn still felt a little guilty going through the Jew's bag. It was the only thing she'd brought with her that Quinn could see. It was rather depressing to think that someone's whole life could fit into one small sack, but she didn't dwell. There was nothing terribly interesting in the woman's bag, but then again she was only looking for one thing. When she found it, she nearly crumpled it in her hands.

Noah Puckerman _was_ a handsome man, but there was nothing special about him.

When her father brought Finn Hudson to dinner, she figured he'd was finally learning the signals.

Finn was sweet and thoughtful and funny. The one thing he wasn't, was very smart. Quinn realized this after the first time they went out and it took him twenty minutes to figure out that the street musicians weren't singing in Dutch, but German. Quinn used this knowledge to her advantage.

She had heard the stories of the things happening in Germany and had seen the New Order's change in Holland just like everyone else, but since the Jew had come into her life, Quinn found herself listening to every bit of information she could follow and reading the paper. She'd even begun listening to her father's inane ramblings.

Which is how she'd found herself listening as Finn described in almost gruesome details what happened when they rounded up the Jews and loaded them onto the rail cars. He sounded almost amused as he told her of how grown men urinated on themselves as they begged for their lives. But she wasn't surprised because she knew that Finn wasn't a horrible person. He really just believed in this cause. He believed this would make Europe and ultimately the world a better place.

"What's in the box?" Quinn asked as she looked into a box full of what appeared to be random items near the door.

He stood and crossed the room, lifting the box moving it in front of her. "This? This is things we took from some dead Jews. We took the identification cards after we arrested them and raided their houses. We got some really nice stuff."

Quinn's hand shook as she looked through the box, fingering antique jewelry boxes and little trinkets that looked like they'd been passed down through the years. There were pictures and glasses and a shiny gold menorah that Quinn was sure Finn planned to have melted down. She saw a stack of identification cards and grabbed them, flipping through them slowly. Somehow she knew what she'd find even before she had the visible confirmation. Noah Puckerman's card was among them and for a brief moment she imagined Rachel's face as she learned that her husband had been sent to the gas chambers. Then she shook her head and tried to ignore the feeling clutching at her heart.

A week later when she stole the menorah, sliding it into the basket she'd brought over filled with fruit pies, she refused to think about Noah's identification card. Or Rachel not having anyone else to take care of her.

Quinn woke up in a cold sweat, but couldn't remember her nightmare. After having the Jew nearly discovered when her father used the rest room and wandered into the spare bedroom, finding the bed disheveled, she'd had to head off his sudden appearances on more than one occasion. And now she was having nightmare that she couldn't remember come the morning. She knew that the next day, she would be turning the Jew in.

The sight of Rachel's menorah and the memory of the box made her change her mind.

**December, 1943**

"Noah wants a houseful of kids. He says that he hopes they look like me, but I hope they have his smile," the brunette's smile could rival the sun and Quinn's heart clutched at the mention of the dead man. "After...well when we're reunited, I will try my hardest to give him as many babies as he wants."

If the Jew was startled when Quinn stood abruptly and left the table, she never let on. Moments later, the blonde walked back into the room and slammed the ill-gotten menorah on the table. Rachel stared at it, fear and tears fighting for dominance in her eyes as she looked at it.

"That's my...menorah."

Quinn forced herself to meet the deep brown eyes.

"How...how did you get it?"

Looking away the blonde walked to the entrance to the kitchen. "I'm tired. The chicken was dry. Clean up this mess."

Two days before Christmas Eve, there was barely any sound in house, but Quinn could hear Rachel's soft voice from behind her closed door. Quinn stood in the hall, ignoring the bitter cold winds that whipped through the drafty windows. She couldn't make out the words, but knew they were the prayers of the Jews. She could see soft flickers of light dancing between the space where the door and the floor didn't quite meet.

She wondered how, despite everything that had happened, Rachel could continue to pray to a God that had clearly abandoned His people.

Christmas was its usual fair, full of family and friends and laughter. Quinn played with her little cousins and commented on how big her not-so-little cousins had gotten. She and her sister sang Christmas songs while her dad played on the piano. Her Uncle Sjef told his bawdy jokes and her Aunt Robbie argued with her mother in the kitchen. Finn even stopped by for drinks and to meet everyone. She didn't once think of the Jew who was stuck all alone in the house or how alone in the world she was now that her husband was dead. Not that she had told the Jew about that.

Even when her sister announced that Peter had gotten a new job and they would be moving to America, Quinn just hugged her and told her she was happy for them. She refused to let anything ruin her happy day.

**January, 1944**

The Jew huddled in front of fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket. Quinn sat in the rocking chair her grandmother, Marie, had had made for her for Christmas. She was reading a book and the brunette sat knitting with some yarn and needles she'd discovered while she was hiding in the attic recently. She'd all but begged the blonde to let her have them and Quinn had begrudgingly agreed, knowing she was pretty worthless at knitting, a trait her grandmother warned might make her unmarriable.

"What do you think of the name Ruth?" Rachel asked suddenly.

Quinn frowned and lifted her head from the book. "I think it is a name."

"No, I mean for a child. After we are reunited...well if I have a boy first his name will be Noah, naturally. But if we have a little girl, I would like to name her Ruth. It is a strong name. Ruth was a strong woman."

At the mention of their life together and Rachel making plans for her future with a man that was no longer living, Quinn decided it would be kinder if she knew the truth instead of waiting until the war was over to find out. Which wouldn't be much longer anyway if those nosy Americans had their way.

"Noah is dead."

The words were precise and blunt, slicing through the air and Rachel's heart, if the expression her face was anything to judge by. And for a brief moment, just a second really, Quinn wanted to take them back.

"No, he isn't," Rachel almost whispered, her dark eyes seeking out the blonde's hazel ones and begging her to take it back.

Quinn could hear the sorrow and realization hanging from the words and she looked back down at the book in her hands.

"How would you...no one hears anything about...HOW?"

The blonde didn't bother to answer. They both knew how Quinn would have found out. Her father was a Dutch civil servant and proud Nazi-supporter and she, Quinn Fabray, was dating an SS soldier.

When Rachel still hadn't left her room a week later, Quinn pretended that she didn't notice.

**April, 1944**

It was spring and the air had begun to smell sweet with fresh tulips in bloom. Little children ran free, happy to no longer be captive to the bitter weather and the days grew longer. It should have been a happy time.

Only Rachel no longer smiled. She never spoke anymore and would sit across from Quinn at the dinner table not really eating. It was like she had died too. It was like Quinn was living with a ghost.

At night, she would stand in the hall and listen to the quiet sobs coming from the second bedroom well into the night.

She never admit, even to herself, that she wished the tears could be replaced with songs.

And she would certainly never admit that she missed the talking.

**May, 1944**

"You're pathetic!" Quinn declared one night at the dinner table, nearly throwing her plate to the floor. Rachel had taken her seat and there was just the tiniest of sniffles that broke the now usual silence that surrounded this table. The silence had become deafening and she couldn't take it anymore. Rachel didn't even flinch. She just dropped her fork noisily and stared down at her hands. "You mourn a man that was no man at all."

Brown eyes snapped to hers. "What?"

"I said, your...Noah was no man at all. He was worthless."

She could see the shock registering and quickly slipping to anger. "He was a great man!"

Quinn laughed bitterly."He was no man. He was a coward. What kind of man leaves his wife behind with no one to look after her? He did not fight for you. He gave up."

"NO!" Rachel yelled, rising her feet and leaning across the table. "My Noah loved me and he was a good man. He was a hero."

"He was a nothing more than a filthy Jew that was too much of a coward to save himself. He might as well have committed suicide."

The taste of blood was the first thing that she tasted from her bottom lip splitting open, followed by the burning sting spreading slowly over her left cheek. She didn't need a mirror to know that there was probably a hand-print marring her fair skin. Rachel's hands were covering her mouth, tears shimmering her eyes as she stepped back.

Quinn accepted the blow because she knew she'd deserved it.

"You know nothing! You are just hateful and bitter and jealous! You're going to wind up alone. I don't know how anyone could ever love you. You're a horrible person!" Rachel said, storming out of the room.

And later she accepted Rachel's cool cloth and gentle touch as she cared for the bruised skin because Rachel sang softly as she worked.

For the next two weeks, dinners were almost normal again except this time when Rachel smiled at her, Quinn smiled back.

**July, 1944**

By summer, the climate of the war had changed drastically. The Allied forces seemed to be gaining ground rapidly and climate of the war had begun to change rapidly.

Things for Quinn and Rachel had changed as well. Quinn couldn't really understand the how or why behind it, but she found herself engaging in conversations with the Jew. She found that the brunette was actually quite intelligent and well read. Quinn even managed to sneak her the occasional book and seemed to await Rachel's thoughts on the literature almost impatiently. She had begun listening almost intently to her stories and once she'd even volunteered a story of her own. This seemed to please Rachel immensely. She smiled brightly as Quinn told of the time she'd caused her sister to get stung by a bee while on a picnic.

Quinn found herself wondering why she'd waited so long to do so.

Finn told her there were talks of the Allies trying to get to Germany through Holland. If they managed to succeed then that would mean that the Occupation in Amsterdam would be over. Rachel would be free to leave.

Quinn wondered why that seemed to make her heart clench tightly in her chest.

Quinn mentioned Finn's words one night at dinner and had regretted it almost immediately when Rachel's eyes lit up and she'd begun to make plans. Now all that Rachel talked about was leaving and her new life. Quinn barely spoke at all.

**August, 1944**

They both rushed into the hallway at the sound of glass breaking. They shared a panic look, each knowing that the other had also thought the worse. They never talked about it, but that fear had always been there between them. The fear that one night the SS would enter the house and that would be the end of both of their lives.

It was just a branch that had been blown against the window in the storm. Rachel rushed to get the broom immediately and Quinn recognized the action as Rachel being nervous and needing something to distract herself with something. She bent down, sweeping at the shards immediately.

Quinn's heart still beat hard against her chest as she realized that pretty soon all of this would be over. The war, the Occupation, her life as she'd come to know it. One day Rachel would pack sparse belongings into her sack and she'd walk out the door and Quinn would probably never see her again.

That made Quinn's heart drop to her stomach and her throat tighten.

Her hands were on Rachel's shoulders before she even registered that she was moving. The broom and pan made a loud thud when they hit the floor as Quinn dragged the confused woman into her bedroom and pushed her roughly onto the bed. Rachel squeaked in surprise, her brown eyes large and round with confusion and fear, but Quinn didn't stop. She straddled the brunette's waist, forcing her shoulders back to the bed as her lips descended harshly.

Now she hadn't done this since she and Brittany had been girls, practicing kissing so that boys would think they had more experience, but she was pretty sure that kissing involved two pairs of lips moving. So far she'd just been mashing hers against Rachel's unmoving ones while the brunette lay still beneath her. Pulling back, the blonde practically growled. She knew her fingers were digging into Rachel's shoulders, but something told her if she moved completely, Rachel would bolt. As it were, Rachel was staring up at her in shock and more confused than she had been seconds before and dammit what was it that she didn't understand?

"Quinn-"

Quinn didn't wait for her to finished, she leaned forward again, muffling Rachel's words with her mouth, slipping her tongue inside this time. The brunette shrieked a little in protest, but there was little she could do while Quinn seemed to be exploring her mouth thoroughly. Rachel tasted...different than Quinn had expected. Not that Quinn had spent any significant time thinking about how the other woman would taste because she hadn't, at all before this moment. And she didn't really know what she expected, but it wasn't something as intoxicatingly exotic as what was actually reality.

At the first tentative touch of Rachel's tongue to hers, Quinn groaned into the kiss and Rachel whimpered. Then things escalated pretty quickly from there. Lips and teeth traveled down slender necks and clothes were quickly discarded. Things had never progressed this far with Brittany, but instinct and something that felt suspiciously like desperation drove Quinn's actions. Her lips closed over a harden peak as her fingers moved lower, finding moist heat. Rachel's soft moans and tiny gasps filled the air and Quinn felt every touch and sound resonate deep inside of herself.

She suckled greedily, running her teeth over the sensitive flesh as her fingers moved over a tiny nub that seemed to make Rachel's hips jump and her back arch. She lifted her head, just enjoying the view of Rachel beneath her, completely at her mercy. Quinn adjusted her body so that her hand had a better angle, moving to straddle Rachel's thigh instead. Her fingers slipped lower, seeking and finding the tight, wet passage and slipping almost roughly inside, filling the brunette completely. Rachel cried out and Quinn felt almost victorious. She moved her fingers hard and fast, holding her hand over the other woman's mouth because if they weren't careful someone would overhear and find them out.

They moved in what seemed like a well-choreographed dance, Rachel's hips rising to meet Quinn's fingers and the blonde grinding and bucking against the smooth, tanned thigh. Quinn's moans harmonized perfectly with Rachel's and she absently wondered what it would be like if they actually sang together. Then she remembered they probably would never get that chance and she pumped her fingers deeper, curling them ruthlessly.

Rachel let out a strangled cry against her hand, her body freezing for a moment before she shuddered almost violently, her inner muscles contracting around Quinn's seeking digits. That seemed to snap something inside of the blonde and suddenly she was flying.

She slid beside the still shivering woman, the cool night air settling over her damp flesh. Rachel curled to her side, moving to stand, but Quinn pulled her back, wrapping her arm around the brunette and bringing their bodies together. She pulled the blanket over them, her eyes already growing heavy once again.

She could hear Rachel take a breath, prepared to speak, but Quinn cut her off. "Sleep."

The next morning, Quinn woke up naked and alone in her bed.

Quinn had been out all day walking around, trying not to think about the previous night and avoiding the house completely.

When she arrived home, Rachel looked over at her as she paused in by the kitchen. She saw dinner waiting on the table. Rachel had made her favorite.

"I'm not hungry. Clean up and go to the attic. Finn is coming over to fix the window."

Later that night, after Finn finished fixing the window, Quinn invited him into her bedroom and she tried not to think about why she made sure to be extra noisy as she faked her way through her orgasm.

"You didn't have to put on a show for my benefit," Rachel said quietly the next night at their silent dinner. Quinn looked up at her, hazel eyes wide, but she didn't utter a word. "I could hear you, while I was up in the attic. It was a nice performance, but I know it was fake."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't worry. He didn't know it wasn't real. They never do."

That night, when Rachel came into her room and climbed on top of her, lips crushing to hers with unerring accuracy in the dark, Quinn did anything but fake it.

**September, 1944**

They took to sleeping in Quinn's bed on the nights when Finn didn't stay over, which wasn't often because it would not show proper decorum to have a gentleman caller almost nightly. She was fully aware that Finn was courting her and she was dreading the day when he would finally work up the nerve to ask her father for her hand.

She'd been trying to figure out a way to politely decline for weeks now, but didn't want to break off their affair. Food supplies from Germany had greatly reduced, but Finn always made sure that she had plenty to eat. He was really a sweet man and would be a wonderful husband to her. Most days she could almost make herself believe that she could be happy married to him.

Then Rachel stripped off her clothes and took her place beneath the blonde and Quinn wasn't so sure.

Sometimes, Quinn wondered what Rachel thought of her relationship with Finn. The other woman never brought it up. She just took to changing the sheets in between visits. That didn't bother Quinn in the least. It was really hard to focus on enjoying sex with Finn while Rachel's scent still lingered in the air.

She realized something was definitely wrong when Rachel's hand cups her breast and she shrinks away in pain.

The next clue was when the sight of eggs made her run from the table and not come back.

**October, 1944**

The doctor didn't really need to confirm what she'd known for the past few weeks, but had been hoping wasn't true.

"You know what the saddest part about it is?" Rachel said one night apropos to nothing. Quinn looked up from the book she was reading, waiting for Rachel's response. "I'm never going to get to have children," she said quietly.

For a panicked moment, Quinn wondered if she'd somehow figured it, but Rachel was turned away from her, staring longingly out the window.

Several of Quinn's students died from the food shortage and Quinn decided that if Finn Hudson did ask her to marry him, she would be a fool not to accept.

**November, 1944**

The sound of pounding on her front door, awoke them both from slumber. Quinn motioned for Rachel to hide in the closet before moving swiftly through the hall and down the stairs. Her pulse slowed when she pulled the door open and saw that was Finn. But then she saw the other soldiers standing behind him and her heart began to pound wildly.

"Finn? Is everything all right? Is my father..." she asked though she had no doubt she knew the real reason they were there.

"Quinn, we have reason to believe you are committing an act of treason by harboring a Jew," Finn said gruffly.

She could feel her hazel eyes go round and for a brief moment, she thought he was joking, wished he was joking. "I...WHAT? Why would I be harboring a Jew?"

The blonde was well aware that she'd been lucky enough that they hadn't just barged into the house and she figured that had more to do with Finn than anything else.

"You neighbor said she saw a woman with dark hair in your attic window," Finn said as he and the other soldiers stepped inside of her house.

"She must be going mad. I was up in my attic just last week getting my heavy winter blankets. I did not see any woman up there," Quinn said, willing her voice not to quiver.

They were no longer listening. They had simply begun to search every possible hiding place on the first level of her house, flipping furniture and searching floorboards. They stomped up the stairs, one pulling open the attic door while the other two searched her second bedroom. Never had she been so grateful that she had insisted Rachel store her personal belongs underneath an old blanket in her childhood chest.

When Finn reached for the handle on her door, Quinn tried to step in front of him, but it was too late. He'd pushed the door open just slightly, his eyes going wide. Quinn looked past him to find Rachel standing stock still on the other side of her bedroom. His eyes narrowed and hardened as he looked at Quinn. She silently pleaded with him, but he shook his head, turning away when he heard the footsteps of the other soldier's footsteps.

"All clear in the attic," the younger soldier said.

"The other bedroom was clear too, sir," one of the other soldier confirmed.

"I...," Finn said, glaring at Quinn. "...didn't find anything. This bedroom was clear. Sorry to bother you, ma'am." Finn said almost too politely. His eyes searched Quinn's, looking for an explanation she was sure, but all she could do was look away, nodding slowly.

Quinn followed them down the stairs silently, locking the door quickly as they left, mostly fearful that Finn would change his mind and come back.

She found Rachel cowering in a corner, sobbing quietly. Quinn's body had yet to stop quaking in fear and the two of them huddled close together on the bed, warding off the world.

Finn had transferred by the end of November and Quinn never bothered to tell him about the baby.

**December, 1944**

If it weren't for her father's almost weekly visits, Quinn and Rachel would have starved to death. He seemed to be worried about her. She knew, he'd had high hopes for her and Finn and when he'd questioned her about her plans to follow him back to Germany, Quinn had clutched her stomach and shook her head.

"Teach me," Quinn said quietly one night before Rachel bid her farewell and returned to her room. They hadn't spoken about that night at all, but by some unspoken rule, Rachel had begun to return to her own bed at night.

She'd politely asked Quinn to pick her up some candles one day last week. Nine pillar candles to be exact and Quinn remembered that the Jew had made the same request around Christmas of last year.

Rachel looked taken aback at the request as she slipped her nightgown back over her head.

"I want to learn about..."

"Chanukah," Rachel provided slowly.

"Hanukkah?" Quinn said, the words felt funny on her tongue.

Smiling fondly, the brunette cupped her cheek. "Close enough."

Taking her hand, Rachel led her into the tiny, second room. She pulled out a matchbox and lit it on the first strike. She lit the middle candle then used it to ignite the first candle. Quinn watched, completely taken by the devotion that shown on the brunette's face as she recited the prayers of her people. Maybe God hadn't abandoned her at all.

Maybe Quinn was the abandoned one.

Quinn could see the light of curiosity flicker on her mother's face when she has Quinn try on the gown, she had Brittany's mother make for her. Quinn had been the same size since she was sixteen. But the dress was snug around Quinn's stomach and their eyes met in the mirror until Quinn can no longer look at the older blonde. Her mother said nothing. She simply muttered that they'd have it let out a little and the two joined her sister who was visiting from America.

**January, 1945**

Quinn was grateful that the winter clothing because she'd begun to show and she still hadn't told anyone except Rachel. And even then she hadn't so much told Rachel as the other woman had sort of declared it.

_"You haven't menstruated once since we've...I'm not an idiot."_

After that, Quinn hadn't gone near Rachel for nearly a week. She'd become paranoid. She wondered if everyone could tell. It didn't help that she had spent most of the last month rushing to the bathroom every five minutes as the slightest odor turned her stomach or the fact that her clothes were starting to get a little snug.

But last week as she's served her father dinner, he'd eyed her suspiciously before asking after Finn and her plans to marry.

"I wonder where I'm to live after Amsterdam is liberated," Rachel muttered sleepily as her head lay against Quinn's shoulder. _She_ unfortunately was menstruating, but had insisted that it didn't mean that she couldn't be there for the blonde.

The hand that had been stroking long dark locks froze for a moment and Quinn resisted the urge to suggest that she just stay there. Instead, she lifted the woman's chin and kissed her until all thoughts of leaving were the furthest thing from her mind.

Her sister didn't even question her sudden decision to move to America. She simply offered Quinn the spare room and said she'd look into finding her a teaching job. Quinn wasn't sure whether to be happy that clearly her mother had shared her suspicions or angry.

Quinn lost five more students to hongerwinter. Rachel said nothing when she came home in tears. She just held her all through the night.

**February, 1945**

"My sister says that America views _Jews_ a lot differently than Europe does." Quinn slipped it in right after Rachel finished talking about a book Quinn had given her to read. She hoped she was being casual, but she could feel dark eyes on her, gazing at her suspiciously. "She said they are full citizens there and that a lot of them have fled from Europe."

Rachel was silent, her face unreadable. "I suppose they would be. America has come to help fix this mess. I'm sure they treat their people well."

"Maybe after the war, you should think of moving there."

Rachel smiled brightly. "But my home is here in Holland. I wouldn't dare think of moving. I'm going to locate Noah's family after the war. Mine is probably...well you know."

Quinn was gutted at the sound of his name. It had been so long since Rachel had said, she'd forgotten he'd even existed. Rachel clearly had not.

If she's was a little rougher with Rachel that night than usual, the brunette never mentioned it.

The first time Quinn felt it, was one night while Rachel sang softly into her ear. It was like a tiny fluttering in her stomach and she sat up abruptly, her head nearly colliding with the brunette's.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked in a panicked voice.

"I think it moved," Quinn said, pressing her hand to her stomach.

Rachel pressed her hand to the soft skin of Quinn's stomach and waited, but nothing happened.

When Rachel started singing once again, the fluttering came back and Rachel smiled brightly, running her hand all over the blonde's swollen belly.

"I bet it's a girl."

By the end of February, it became apparent that Rachel had no intention of leaving her beloved Amsterdam and Quinn wasn't sure which of them she was more furious with. Rachel for not wanting to get as far away from a country that had turned against her and her people and make a better life for herself.

Or herself for falling in love with said woman.

**March, 1945**

When her father discovered she was with child, his first reaction was to hunt Finn down in Germany and beat him senseless then haul him back to Holland and force him to marry Quinn.

His second reaction was to completely disown his daughter.

That night, Rachel tried to distract her from her tears by telling how beautiful she thought Quinn's daughter was going to be. Quinn was surprised when it worked.

If it wasn't for Brittany's help over the next three weeks, Quinn would have starved. When the taller blonde showed up unannounced and accidentally stumbled upon Rachel in the kitchen, she didn't even bat an eye. She hugged the smaller woman and offered her a piece of freshly baked bread she'd brought with her.

**May, 1945**

The news of Germany's surrender was almost bittersweet for Rachel and Quinn. They made love for hours that night, despite Quinn's back pain and the bulge that seemed to get in the way at times. Neither seemed to want to stop touching the other. And that night, as Quinn came undone one last time, she let the tears fall.

Three weeks later, with one last hug and a soft kiss on her cheek, Rachel thanked her for saving her life. Then she walked out of the door and Quinn's life for good.

Quinn did not try to stop her.

A week later, when Quinn went into labor, Brittany was at her side, but Quinn couldn't help but wish it was Rachel.

The doctor handed her the beautiful bundle and she looked down at curious eyes that stared back. Rachel had been right. Her daughter was beautiful.

**August, 1945**

It had been a rough few months, but the last of Quinn's things had been shipped to America and she would be boarding a ship westward bound to the "Land of Opportunity." Brittany had decided to come with her, deeming Dutch men too boring and deciding she'd much rather marry a rich American man. Quinn suspected the blonde was just worried about her and the baby she had dubbed "Tulip."

Quinn had tried to stay at least for the baby's sake, but it was to no avail. She'd tried converting the tiny bedroom into one for her daughter, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to move a single thing. It didn't help that her parents had fled the country months before once the executions of Nazi supporters had begun. The last she'd heard, they'd settled in Canada someplace. So, she was truly alone except for Brittany, who had proven to be a far better friend than Quinn had previously given her credit for. She'd held Quinn as she'd cried over Rachel and had practically moved in, helping with the baby and sleeping in the bed next to Quinn at night. It felt nice, but it didn't erase the memories.

And Quinn just couldn't bring herself to stay.

**July, 1955**

They'd lived a lot of places in the last ten years before finally settling in Brooklyn, New York. They'd left the south quickly once she and Brittany had realized how racially separated the states were. They'd just lived that way in Holland and had feared history repeating itself. She also didn't want to raise her daughter with those values even if her sister was quite content to raise her boys with them. They'd been relieved when Brittany had managed to land a job being a dancer in shows in New York and had quickly moved. Quinn fell in love with New York immediately. The money Brittany's father had left her upon his death had enabled them to buy a large brownstone in a very racially mixed neighborhood and Quinn couldn't have been happier. She'd taken a job at a school with predominantly black and Hispanic children and had even made friends with one of the other teachers. Her name was Mercedes Jones and Quinn was convinced she'd be the next Marian Anderson. It was so different from her life in Holland that felt like it had all happened in a dream. If it weren't for her daughter and Brittany, she wouldn't have believed she'd actually lived through it.

Brittany had made a name for herself and had become one of the most sought after dancer in Manhattan. Over the years, their relationship had gone through a multitude of changes as well, including being more than friends, though that had ended earlier in the year when Brittany had started bringing around one of her new dancer friends. A girl named Santana Lopez that glared at Quinn whenever she got anywhere near Brittany. Not that Quinn was bothered by it. Brittany deserved more than Quinn had ever been able to give her and she was happy for her friend.

The doorbell rang just as Quinn pulled the roast out of the oven. Brittany came down the back stairs into the kitchen with a scowling Santana. "Smells really good, Quinn," the blonde said with a smile, planting a kiss on the shorter blonde's cheek.

Quinn ignored Santana's glare and smiled at Brittany. She set the pan down, she poked her head into the living room. "Can you please answer the door?" she asked the nine-year-old brunette, sitting on the floor in front of the television. "We're finishing up dinner now. So, tell your friends that you cannot come outside and play. Then go wash up for dinner."

"Aww, but Ma, I'm watching _Rin, Tin, Tin_," her daughter whined.

"No arguments, march young lady." Quinn voice wasn't harsh, but it held promise.

"Please, Tulip?" Brittany offered, peaking around Quinn and smiling at the little girl.

"Oh all right," the girl said, standing up and moving toward the front door as Quinn and Brittany went back into the kitchen.

Santana had already begun to set the table while Brittany grabbed the plates from the cabinet. Quinn checked the meat to make sure it was cooked just right when her ears caught the telltale sounds of a conversation. Quinn sat the fork down and moved down the hall to the door.

"My name is Ruthie Fabray," her daughter was just saying as Quinn walked and found herself staring into familiar brown eyes.

"_Rachel_?" She whispered, her Dutch accent making itself more pronounced than it had been in years.

"Quinn, good you remember me." Rachel smiled brightly at her and Quinn felt her heart slam almost painfully against her chest.

Remembered her? How Quinn could have possibly forgotten her. She'd haunted Quinn's dreams...her heart...her life for the past ten years.

"Rachel! It's so good to see you!" Brittany exclaimed from behind her, pushing past to yank the smaller woman to her and sweep her up into a hug.

"Hello Brittany, it's good to see you too, again," Rachel's accent was foreign, Americanized, but Quinn could still hear the traces of home.

"Oh, this is my friend, Santana! Santana, this is Rachel! She lived in Holland with Quinn," Brittany provided so quickly, both women stared at her.

Rachel recovered first. "Nice to meet you, Santana," she said holding out her hand.

The Latin woman looked at it and sniffed indelicately. "Charmed, I'm sure."

"Hey Tulip, why don't we run down to the bodega and get some ice cream for after dinner?" Brittany said to Ruthie, flicking one of her pigtails.

"Can we get strawberry?" Ruthie asked excitedly.

"Of course," Brittany agreed readily, smiling sweetly at the little girl then Santana. The taller brunette rolled her eyes, but sighed and followed the two out of the door. "Rachel, I really hope you'll stay for dinner. Quinn made a roast. It's so good." Brittany said before Santana yanked her down the sidewalk.

Quinn turned back to their visitor, almost unable to believe her eyes. "Well can I come in or am I not welcome? Was this a bad idea? This was a bad idea right?"

Her hands were moving long before her brain caught up. Rachel's hand was a warm and soft as she remembered. She pulled the woman inside, gripping her hand tightly, partly because she couldn't believe it was real and partly because she was afraid Rachel would leave again.

They walked into the living room and she turned off the television, motioning for Rachel to sit on the couch. They sat in awkward silence, both eyeing the other cautiously.

"I was right," Rachel said suddenly. Quinn looked up at her and it was like they were back in the house in Holland, Quinn reading her book and Rachel knitting booties for the baby. "She's beautiful. She looks a lot like you."

"You think so? I think she looks like Finn."

"No, not even a little bit and I can already tell she's got your brains."

Quinn smiled fondly before falling silent again.

"Ruth?" Rachel questioned.

"Someone once told me it was a strong name. It was almost Rachel, but..." Quinn let her words trail. This was painful. She wasn't sure what to do. She'd never dreamed of this moment happening and there were so many things to say. "How did you find me?"

"Brittany. She and I were in a show together last month. I'm a singer now. Can you believe it?"

Quinn nodded, allowing herself to take the time to actually look at the other woman. She had matured a lot in ten years, but she still looked like the girl Quinn had found under the cart at the market. Quinn wanted to touch her. She wanted to kiss her and she wanted to make sure that Rachel never left again.

"I never got married again. Noah's brother offered, but it was just too painful. Too many memories and home wasn't really home anymore. My father had a brother here in a America and he took me in for a while. He got me work. I love New York."

Nodding again, Quinn sighed. She'd never been good at this part, especially not with Rachel. "You didn't have to leave," she said quietly.

"Yes, I did. I knew what you'd been trying to say for all of the those months, but it wouldn't have worked. We would have been killed. We were too...broken."

"So, why are you here now?" Quinn asked, quietly.

Rachel crossed the room, kneeling in front of the blonde and grabbing her face. The kiss was soft and light but deepened in both action and meaning. The emotions built up inside of Quinn conflicting and melding to the point where she couldn't recognize them. The door opened loudly and the two sprung apart.

Brittany smiled knowingly and Quinn blushed. "Oh good you're still here. We got four different kinds of ice cream because we didn't know which one you'd like."

"I like strawberry and chocolate," Rachel answered and smiled when Ruthie's hazel eyes lit up.

"Those are my favorite too!" She exclaimed, smiling.

"Tulip, go wash up for dinner," Brittany shooed before she and Santana went into the kitchen.

Rachel followed their movements before turning back to Quinn and pressing a sweet, but chaste kiss to her lips.

"Right now, I am here for dinner," Rachel answered, smiling at Quinn and taking her hand.


End file.
